Did you know that our President is a poet? Neither did I — thankfully, CNN gives us a taste of his lyrical genius.

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Oh my, lump in the bed
How I’ve missed you.
Roses are redder
Bluer am I
Seeing you kissed by that charming French guy.
The dogs and the cat, they missed you too
Barney’s still mad you dropped him, he ate your shoe
The distance, my dear, has been such a barrier
Next time you want an adventure, just land on a carrier.

(via sTaRe)

I’ve had this bouncing around in my head for a while now, and it makes me laugh. I’ve been considering making it into a shirt to sell through this site — the question is, would anyone buy it?

I'm just here to get laid.

Personally, I can see all sorts of good occasions to wear a shirt like this.

Barhopping with friends.

Wandering around town.

Dean meet-ups.





Any takers?

Update: Okay, the deed is done. I got two “yes” answers by IM just after putting this post up, so I figured it was worth a shot. If this tickles your funnybone — go shopping and buy a shirt!

Hmmm — seems like I need to get out of the house and go to some of the local Dean meet-ups at some point. Apparently, they’re the newest hot place to meet singles!

Though Wesley Clark may emerge as the boomer favorite among the Democratic presidential candidates, the hipster choice so far is Howard Dean. It’s not just his rolled-up sleeves or down-home oratory style; over the past three months, his events have developed a reputation as de facto singles mixers for young activists on the make.

Many of the events are set up through Meetup.com, a nonpolitical site that lets users arrange events. Most Dean meet-ups (nicknamed “meat-ups” by some) are in flirt-friendly locales like bars and restaurants. There are so many swinging supporters that they’ve formed a group, Singles for Dean, and the campaign recently launched Deanlink, where users post provocative photos alongside their political interests.


Straight women, meanwhile, have been spreading the word that Dean guys are passionate and cute. “I want to meet some nice, hunky, liberal-minded boys who aren’t apathetic losers living in their parents’ basements,” says Abigail Gullo, 30, an actress and teacher who has attended two meet-ups and a recent fund-raiser at Avalon. Dean guys, she says, are attractive, if not studly—kind of like the doctor himself. “It’s the dorky-glasses, slightly-thinning-hair-but-I’m-really-not-worried-about-it look. They’re hipsters who have given up the ironic T-shirts and are now in refined primary colors and button-down guayabera shirts. But they’re there! And that immediately puts them leaps and bounds ahead of any guy I’m going to meet on Match.com.”

(via Lane)

Having DJ’d for around eight years in Anchorage, and having been a clubgoer for many years both before and after my DJ years, I’ve worked with and seen a lot of both really good, and really bad people. Ogre, the doorman at the Vogue, is definitely one of the good ones. He’s just put up two posts that I loved.

First off, what he looks for when hiring bouncers (which also explains much of why I’ve found him to be one of the best bouncers I’ve met):

I have some hard and fast criteria for the bouncers I hire. Right off the bat i have the three rules:

  1. Talk some serious shit. I’d rather you never even touch the person you’re throwing out. This requires a quick wit, an even temper, and a good understanding of how to read people. I had one bouncer who could get people to leave by saying “Leave.” and then staring at them and not saying anything, so it’s not just what you say.

    And secondly, some generic advice for clubgoers:

Drunk normal guys looking to score with hot death chicks with no frame of reference:\
You suck and should be bludgeoned to death with a street sign.

Metal guys who think that a fishnet shirt will make them goth: Most of us think you’re an assclown.

Much more on each of those links, of course.

From an (admittedly wonderfully written, if one has the brain cells to read between the lines) article about a Wisconsin pro-Bush/anti-Dean rally:

Tom O’Day, chairman of the Republican Party of Dane County, offered a free copy of former Gov. Tommy Thompson’s book, “Power to the People,” and a button to the person who came up with the cleverest anti-Dean poster. The aroma of markers filled the bus, as the students searched aloud for words that rhyme with “Dean.”


…back on the bus driving through a cold rain, the students were both energized and weary. A good bit into the trip, O’Day stood and said it was time to choose a winner of the anti-Howard Dean poster contest.

“All in favor of, ‘Dean is a Ween, Don’t Bring it to My Bush’?”

No applause.

“Dean Can’t Measure Up, Four More Years”?

Mild applause.

“Dean’s a Queen, Vote Bush”?

Very mild applause.

“I think the queen’s got it,” O’Day said, delivering the Tommy Thompson book to the young woman in the back of the bus who created the poster. She would not reveal her name.

(via Joe Rospars)

Salon has a fascinating article by former counsel to President Nixon John W. Dean, who uses some little-known information about the Watergate scandal to advise Joseph Wilson and Valerie Plame to file a civil suit in an attempt to break the current scandal wide open.

I thought I had seen political dirty tricks as foul as they could get, but I was wrong. In blowing the cover of CIA agent Valerie Plame to take political revenge on her husband, Ambassador Joseph Wilson, for telling the truth, Bush’s people have out-Nixoned Nixon’s people. And my former colleagues were not amateurs by any means.


[Nobody] I knew while working at the Nixon White House had the necessary viciousness, or depravity, to attack the wife of a perceived enemy by employing potentially life-threatening tactics.

So let me share a bit of history with Ambassador Wilson and his wife. And, well aware that gratuitous advice is rightfully suspect, let me also offer them a suggestion — drawn from some pages of Watergate history that till now I’ve only had occasion to discuss privately. Long before Congress became involved and a special prosecutor was appointed, Joe Califano, then general counsel to the Democratic National Committee and later a Cabinet officer, persuaded his Democratic colleagues to file a civil suit against the Nixon reelection committee. And that maneuver almost broke the Watergate coverup wide open. In seeking justice from the closed ranks of the Bush White House, Wilson and Plame should follow a similar strategy.

It’s a very interesting look back at Watergate, and forward to where things could go in the near future.

On a side note — does anyone know of a really good book (or books) about the Watergate scandal? While it wasn’t entirely “before my time”, I was extremely young when it happened, and I’d like to know a bit more about it. Recommendations are very welcome.

(via Mediaburn)

While I don’t live up north anymore, I know that about half my readership (mom, dad, Stacy, and Kirsten — yeah, that’s about half) still do. For those of you that might be interested in Dean, if you haven’t found this yet, it appears that there is an Alaskans for Dean Yahoo! group, as well as a Fairbanks for Dean Yahoo! group. Not to mention the Alaska for Dean site, though it’s pretty sparse, unfortunately.

(via Jonathan K-T)

Tiny Sugar Packets of Evil is asking about nicknames today. Since she asked…

I’ve had four nicknames that I can remember off the top of my head.

My first and earliest came about before I was even born. Since mom and dad didn’t really know what I was going to be (in fact, if I remember correctly, mom was absolutely convinced that she was going to have a dark haired little daughter, and even the dream of having a red headed boy didn’t convince her until I actually showed up), they referred to me as “The Kid”, or “TK”. When my brother was on the way, he became “TK-2”.

When I was a young kid, mom nicknamed me “Punkin”. I can’t come up with any funny or cute stories about that one, though, sorry. ;)

In fourth grade, I met Royce. His family had nicknames for each of the kids: Royce was “Trooper”, his little brother Corey was “Packey”, his little sister Haley was…my lord, I can’t remember anymore…, and I ended up being dubbed “Pokey”, thanks to my tendency to be abysmally slow about getting anywhere. I dawdled constantly — not to be difficult or anything, it’s just that there was so much cool stuff everywhere! My parents used to joke that I was always late to school (a three block walk from home) because I had to examine every snowflake to be sure that they were all really different.

My last, and most long-lasting nickname, was also given to me by Royce’s family. At one point, Royce’s dad remarked that I looked like “a young Woody Allen” (here’s a picture, judge for yourself), and he started calling me “Little Woody”.

In high school, I was getting more and more fed up with the fact that, as Michael is the most popular name for males in my age group, there was at least one other Michael in almost every class I was in. In my Yearbook class, there were two Michaels, and we (along with some of the other non-Michaels) all decided that it was time to adopt nicknames to differentiate ourselves. The other Michael became “Milo”, my friend Jason became “Spanky”, Mark became “Stiffy” (his last name is Stiffler), and, while I thought that “Little Woody” would raise a few too many eyebrows — especially in high school — I started using “Woody”.

And yeah — Spanky, Stiffy, and Woody. We also had a friend named Rod. We figured that all we needed was a Richard, and we’d have the whole set. But anyway…

So I started using Woody. As time went on, I used Woody more and more often, and Michael (or Mike) less and less. I was going through a lot of personal, introspective changes at the time (in many ways, discovering that I actually had a personality of my own), and in some ways, Woody became almost an entirely separate persona from Mike/Michael — to the point where it sometimes felt almost like something of a self-induced schizophrenia. It wasn’t long at all until I was using Woody exclusively, and it was only my family or very old friends who called me Michael.

Over the years, Woody itself picked up a few nicknames — Woodstock, Woodorama, Woodster, etc. At one point, Royce was joking around and gave it the pseudo-German spelling of Wüdi, which ended up coming in handy once I hit the ‘net. While Woody isn’t an incredibly common name, it was common enough that an internet search would come up with quite a few others (not least of which was Woody Allen), but I’ve yet to find another ‘Wudi’ on the net (aside from Wudi county in China, at least).

Over the past few years, though, I’ve finally gotten around to using Michael again. It started a few years back with my friend Miranda, who decided that she liked that better than Woody. That started getting me used to hearing my name from people other than old friends and family, and as time has gone by, I’ve been using Woody less and less. It will live on through djwudi.com and my DJ Wüdi propaganda, but as a nickname, it definitely seems to finally be on its way out.

Every so often I mention to people that I haven’t watched television, for the most part, in somewhere around a decade or more. In today’s mass-media-fueled society, that often gets responses ranging from surprise to out and out shock. I’ve got a whole host of reasons why I don’t bother with television — and today, I just got one more.

A game of Russian Roulette with a real, loaded gun is slated to be broadcast live on British television this Sunday in what is being billed as the ultimate reality-TV stunt.

“It is a real gun with a real bullet and I am really putting it against my head,” said Derren Brown a self-styled “psychological illusionist.”

Brown plans to pull the trigger of a 348 Smith & Wesson several times, sensing which chamber the bullet is in, and plans to point the gun away from his body and fire the killer shot harmlessly into the air.

“If I am not 100 percent sure, I will not pull the trigger,” Brown said, admitting, “It would be humiliating but it would be preferable to the other consequences.”

Brown said the show won’t glamorize gun violence.

“We are dealing with it in the most serious and strenuous way possible. The drama will not come from the gun part, but from the fun and games and entertainment that comes from the selection process.”

The show will air on a several-second delay in case Brown shoots himself. If that happens, viewers will not see the gun fire into his head. Instead, the screen will go blank and display a message advising viewers what’s happened.

This just does not seem like a good idea.

Of course, the ratings are going to be incredible.

(via Lane)


The stupid git actually survived (and there’s even a play by play account). He’s lucky. But how about the idiots out there who decide to copy him? Think that they’ll be as lucky?